


High Strung

by imnotpoeticanymore



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Trevor is Ian's best friend and nothing more which is how it should be, competitions, subway station meetings, violinist Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotpoeticanymore/pseuds/imnotpoeticanymore
Summary: AU where Ian is a ballet dancer at a prestigious dance school. Mickey is just some guy who plays violin on a subway platform for money. (Loosely based on the movie High Strung...yeah I'm a title stealer)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a ballet dancer, though I do really appreciate the art form. If anyone who reads this is studied in the art of ballet and finds that there is anything wrong or odd in my story please help me out and tell me. I want to be as accurate as possible. I do have a couple ballet dictionaries I keep on hand, and lots of youtube videos. Hope I can make sense of any of the dance routines they do, and if you find yourself lost I can edit it better or just post a video of what they are doing so you, readers, can better visualize! Happy reading!

Ian spun. He really spun, throwing his leg out over and over again to gain more speed, and he just kept going round and round en pointe. He loved it. He loved the wind against his face as he went. He loved everyone watching him and being in awe at how many pirouettes he could do. The world record was 54, and Ian was working up to that number. He was at about 37 right now and practiced for hours every night, though not only on pirouettes but also on whole dances. Which is what he was doing this night.

It was about midnight when he decided to call it quits, which is earlier than he would normally. He wiped his forehead and grabbed his water bottle. Ian considered continuing for another hour but he was tired tonight. He had endured a long day of practice for the upcoming recital in which he would be part of the main event as a senior, plus he had just broken up with his long-term boyfriend who also happened to be in one of Ian’s performances. 

“Fuck class tomorrow is going to be awkward.” Ian mumbled to himself and shook his head as he remembered that the guy and him still shared their 9:00 am Tuesdays and Thursdays as well as performances. He cursed at himself as he walked through the hallways stopping at his locker to pick up his backpack. Ian headed to the subway to be on his way home when he heard something wonderful coming from down the stairs. He walked down slowly wanting to listen to the music forever. When he got to the bottom he discovered the source. 

A violin.

Mickey had always had a passion for music. Southside had tried it’s hardest to kill it but had never been successful. His father had expected to beat the music out of him but it just made his ambition stronger. Each punch creating a symphony in his head that he needed to get out. He wanted people to be able to listen and understand life at it’s rawest and most true form. 

As his fingers vibrated on the neck of the violin creating a warm vibrato he smiled a little smile to himself. Music always understood him, it always knew just what he needed in the moment and exactly how to fix everything. He opened his eyes for the crescendo in the piece. It was midnight so he didn’t expect anyone to be on the subway platform with him. It was Chicago, but he lived and played in a less well off neighborhood where people tried to stay out of the subways at night for fear of unsavory characters. It wasn’t the best place or time to play for tips, but it also meant that the police were never there to chase Mickey away so he thought it was a fair trade. Plus the acoustics in his little corner were near perfect, and what musician would give up a perfect practice place for a little extra dough? Mickey wasn’t afraid of what he might encounter those late nights, he wasn’t afraid of anything, though the glock in his bag and butterfly knife in his pocket might have played a little role in that safety. 

Mickey played a little more closing his eyes again as the song got angrier, his bow pulling roughly on the strings, showing the aggression and pain he felt towards his father, family, and friends for the life they forced him into. He kept digging the bow into the strings till they scratched. He continued to do this with different pitches, flinching at every pull remembering the feel of his fathers knuckles against the same chin the violin laid on. 

Ian was standing behind the guy, so he couldn’t see his face but he didn’t mind. Looking at the back of him was just as good as the music coming from his instrument. The ass on the guy must have been sculpted the way his jeans shaped it so perfectly. Ian started to walk to the front of the guy, he needed to see if the boy was just a butterface. Ian braced himself because damn no one with an ass like that could also be gorgeous. 

Mickey was taken aback when he ended the song and opened his eyes to some ginger guy staring at him. He was so surprised his bow fell off the string and made a squeak. Instantly distracted Mickey looked to his instrument and lifted it from his shoulder to hold it by his side. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Mickey said puffing his chest slightly and glaring at Ian accusingly. He didn’t mean to, he just wasn’t very trusting of beautiful boys in subway stations that have staring problems.

“Your playing…it was…amazing.” Ian stuttered out shocked by the look on the man’s face. He looked like he already hated Ian. He told himself that he was just over exaggerating and that maybe the boy didn’t mean to look like that. Resting Bitch Face was a real thing, anyhow.

“Thanks.” Mickey said genuinely though still glaring, then started to pack up his violin. 

“Wait!” Ian started then covered his mouth with his hand.

“What?” Mickey said sounding a little exasperated turning around.

“Do you play here everyday? I mean, I just want to hear you again…” Ian asked biting his lip and hoping for a good outcome. 

“Uh yeah, this subway and then a couple stops down too when the fucking cops come after me in this one.” Mickey said with a moment of hesitation. He didn’t want to trust this boy, trusting people had never brought positive results in Mickey’s past but this boy seemed harmless after inspection. 

“Cool. See you tomorrow.” Ian said smiling goofily, nodding and just plain staring at Mickey. 

Mickey finished packing up his instrument with only a few looks back at the staring boy behind him. Once everything was put in it’s place and secure Mickey stood up only to come almost nose to nose with the boy. Mickey hopped back a little, surprised and unnerved and waves a little sarcastic wave and turns heel to walk the opposite way. Ian waves to Mickey’s back, still smiling, then turns around and walks to the other end of the platform to wait for the subway. He isn’t sure which one is going to be coming next or where it will take him but he is too distracted to care, his mind occupied with a certain raven-haired violinist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian can't seem to get any of his steps right, so his best friend Trevor tries to help him dance the subway boy out of his brain.

The next night Ian tried to practice his jumps, pirouettes and adage but couldn’t. Every time he would take the running into a grand allegro or a jete, he would find himself falling or landing incorrectly and almost injuring his ankles. After attempting the challenge of the pirouettes and only getting up to 30 he stopped completely and sat frustrated on the floor. He pulled off his pointe shoes and sat pouting. He was too excited and confused over this new boy to really pay attention to what he was doing and he hated it. He also liked it. Which is what made it so confusing. He was still siting there pouting when the door to the studio opened.

“Hey, I still have the room for another three hours.” Ian said raising his head from his hands slowly.

“I tried calling you but someone doesn’t ever answer.” The new boy said as he walks in.

“Fuck, Trevor, sorry dude. You should know I keep my phone off during practice to keep from getting distracted.” Ian then rummages through his practice bag for his cell, finding it in a side pocket and sighing at the ten missed calls. 

“You need some help?” Trevor asks sitting beside Ian and dipping his head to try and look the pathetic boy in the eyes. 

“I just can’t get anything right today, just one of those days.” Ian says shaking his head.

“Do you wanna try again? We could do an old routine that we know by heart and maybe you’ll find your feet on autopilot.” Trevor offers. Trevor was by no means a fantastic ballet dancer, his emphasis was in hip-hop, but everyone at the school was required to be versed in all of it. Ian smiles at his best friend and reaches for his iPod to change the song to one they both knew by heart. Trevor pulls off his grey sweatpants to reveal is dance tights underneath, next removing his green shirt, and reaching into his bag that he unceremoniously threw onto the ground beside him to find his ballet shoes. Ian whistles at his outfit.

“You rehearse hip-hop in that?” Ian laughs, “This isn’t a performance, ya know.” 

Trevor shoves him, one shoe on, but laughs himself.

“No, I was practicing for the big dance competition coming up. Are you entering?” Trevor looks up, finished with putting his shoes on.

“The competition is for a dance and string duo. Do I look like I have a orchestra at my fingertips?” Ian gets up and stretches his legs a bit. He had been dancing earlier so he is still pretty warm, but he doesn’t want to risk anything.

“Plus I have the senior performance to be practicing for.” Ian reminds him and his friend stands to join him a bit of a warm up. Trevor just nods and once warm again he goes to stand in the middle of the floor.

“So, what are we dancing to tonight, twinkle toes?” Ian smiles cheekily and hits play on his iPod, running to join Trevor in the middle. The song starts and Trevor groans.

“Really? The Swan Lake, Entrée and Adage from the Black Swan pas de deux. The dance where the guy just follows the girl around and lifts her whenever she wants him to?” Ian snickers and begins the dance.  
“No.” Trevor says cross his arms. Ian laughs openly, dancing the circle around him, not needing Trevor to lift him on the jumps, he can get the air on his own. The jumps aren’t perfect by any means without the guy holding the dancer up but Ian feels like he is doing well enough to annoy his best friend. Trevor just stands there, arms crossed and pouting.

“Fine,” Ian sighs, after landing his last jump, “I’ll pick something you’ll like. Start on the side of the floor.” Ian directs and Trevor does as he is told. The song starts and Trevor recognizes it immediately, a smile creeping across his face. 

“The Sleeping Beauty, Bluebird and Princess Florine pas de deux.” Ian just smiles and nods at his goofy best friend and finds his place on the other side of the floor. Ian was always the girl whenever they practiced together for many reasons. First being he was lighter, and Trevor was stronger, making him the better lifter. Ian was by no standards weak, he had to lift every type of girl in all his ballet classes, and as a male he didn’t often get the option to dance by himself. Ian was also a ballet major, so he was better at all the small intricate technical details that the women in ballet were given. They often had lots of beautiful small steps and Trevor found it hard to figure them all out. Plus in almost every male/female pas de deux the woman was the star of the scene, which is just where Ian liked to be. He would never admit it but he was a bit of a diva. 

Trevor begins the dance, first gliding to the middle of the floor, arms swaying and fingers flapping as if a bird, with back and forth little hops to the side with arms outstretched. He finishes his little solo with a pirouette, only six turns, then gestures to Ian for his part to start. Ian then glides to the center in little spins, kicking his right leg out in little bursts to match the flute playing in the recording, he will be en pointe for most of the song. They meet a bit off center, more towards the right and Trevor winds his arm around Ian’s waist and flashes Ian a smile before walking Ian in a circle, both of their arms rising and falling as if in flight. They separate and go each their ways, then run back and cross in little steps, arms at opposite angles. They then meet again, this time off center but to the back left. Ian has one hand on Trevor’s shoulder, and the other holding his outstretched hand. Both of their legs kicking out behind them, while Trevor’s left hand is outstretched into the empty air. They step, hop and run, in synchronicity for seven runs, then Trevor falls behind Ian to hold and guide his waist as Ian starts to spin. He only goes around a couple times, ending it with a high kick to the air and then the two are parted again, each doing their own little flourish before running off to the edge of the room. Breathing hard and smiling the song ends and the boys laugh.

“You fucker, you nearly pushed me over on my pirouettes!” Ian says lightly shoving Trevor, but laughing all the while.

“And you tried to trip me while we were hopping! You started it!” Trevor accuses, and Ian feigns innocence. With a hand to his breast he cries, 

“I would never do such a thing! If you tripped it was only because of your big uncoordinated feet!” Trevor chuckles before leaning over and plowing Ian in the stomach with his shoulder and throwing him up over his own like a sack of potatoes. Ian tries to fight back, but through the laughter and the fact that the wind was just knocked out of him he is making no progress. Trevor walks over to the metal chairs by the piano and pours the fighting Ian into the nearest one. 

“Take off your shoes, goof, and I’ll drive ya home.” Trevor says heading to his own bag to sit and peel off his own. The reminder of something outside of the dance hall triggers Ian’s memory and he shakes his head, a softer smile forming on his face.

“No, that’s fine, I think I’ll take the subway tonight.” 

“You hate the subway,” He looks to his friend in complete surprise, “You never go on it unless like held at gun point.” Trevor then notices the smile.

“Ah…” He understands.

“Ah what?” Ian says, standing and pulling sweats over his dance tights. He sits back down to shove on his street shoes, but then looks at his friend when he gets no response.

“Ah what, Trevor?”

“There’s a boy on the subway.” Trevor smiles cheekily. Ian scoffs but feels his cheeks get hot.

“Fuck off, no there isn’t, I just like the time away from you.” Ian rebuttals. Trevor just looks at him and gives a knowing nod and hum as he throws his shirt and pants back on as well. He slips his feet into his sneakers and stands.

“Say hi to the boy for me. I expect to meet him soon.” Trevor says with a wink and with that he is walking out of the doors. Ian sits grumbling for a moment about Trevor not knowing shit about anything, but once he is at the door about to leave as well the smile has found it’s way back to his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian found himself at the mouth of the subway station five minutes faster than it normally takes him to walk there. His feet and mood propelling him forward at a speed closer to a jog than a walk. He smiles as the familiar wave of music wafts from the subway and he has to remind himself six times before the end of the stairs to stop it or he will look like an idiot. Ian walks up to Mickey, entranced by the way the violinist’s fingers find the notes on the neck so easily, and he wonders for a moment how good they are at finding other glorious spots. He lets his mind wander for a moment, thinking of all the things those fingers could accomplish.

Ian gets pulled back in to the reality of the subway when the music comes to a lull. Mickey opens his eyes to see the face he had been thinking about all day.

“So you came back to hear me play, huh?” Mickey spoke, pulling his bow across the G string, emitting a low sultry note. 

“I said I would.” Ian retorts trying to be sexy and sarcastic but instead sounding rather content.

“Any requests?” Mickey asks his bow moving and playing as though it had a mind of his own. Ian was amazed by how Mickey could play so well so effortlessly.

“How much classical do you know?” Ian wonders, a plan forming.

“Some, everyone should know bits of everything, right?” Mickey offers, a slight worry flicking through his eyes as he registers the cogs turning in Ian’s mind.

“Tchaikovsky or Korsakov?”

“You want me to play the nutcracker? God, you’re such a ballet cliche!” Mickey remarks laughing but plays the beginning notes anyway, “Are you gonna dance around me as the sugar plum fairy?” Mickey jokes.

“Fine, pick something else.” Ian huffs as he stretches his legs out a bit and straightens up. Mickey mumbles something resembling a laugh and began pulling his bow across the strings in a different pattern.

Ian starts in a la seconde position, his arms lifting into a oval as he puts all his weight on his right foot, on his toes though not pointe. His left leg flew out behind him, gracefully pulled into pirouette, and then fell into fifth position, en bas of the arms. Then he did a rond de jambe, melting into a sauttee. He continued like this, spinning and jumping small jumps around Mickey, his eyes closed and just letting the music fill his body, letting it lead him where it wanted him to go. He flowed incredibly well with the music and when Mickey pulled his final note across his violin Ian suddenly felt as though he had just lost an intricate part of himself. As if he had been having the most wonderful dream and was rudely awoken by his blanket being ripped from him. It left him speechless and winded, his chest heaving as he tried to regulate his breathing.

“You’re pretty good.” Mickey was the first to speak, violin resting at his side. While he watered down his amazement with his words, his eyes and the flush in his cheeks told a whole other story. 

“That..that was amazing,” Ian stuttered, “I’ve been dancing my whole life and never before have I ever felt music in me like that. It just overtook me!” A blush spread across Mickey’s face like a forest fire and he buried into his shoulder, trying to act nonchalant. He had felt the intense connection between their two art forms, anyone in a mile radius probably did, but he was unsure what it was all going to lead to so he did what he always did, deflect and deny. 

“Don’t get crazy about it, it’s only music. Anyone can do it, I promise.” Mickey began packing up then, though he was still hours away from when he normally finished. He had only accumulated 20$ in cash, but didn’t know how else to diffuse the situation and the palpable tension besides leaving. 

“Hey, wait!” Ian grabbed at Mickey’s sleeve as the shorter boy became flighty and was walking away.

“What?” Mickey swung around, sounding more aggressive than he meant.

“I was just wondering if maybe we could do that again. But like in a studio or something, ya know?” Ian looked hopeful.

“The fuck man? I’m just playing this for a buck or two, don’t get it twisted.” Mickey said pulling his arm away and turning to walk again.

“No, wait just like hear me out! It won’t be a deal. It can be at night and low key, just one artist to another. Please.” Ian knew it was impossible to resist him when he begged like this but maybe that was why he did it. He kept his eyes wide and pleading until he heard a defeated exhale from Mickey. A smile flashed across his lips as Mickey turned around looking tired. Ian had extracted his phone from the side pouch of his dance duffle and had opened the contacts section before holding it out to Mickey with a smile.

“Here, add your number and I’ll text you so you have mine. We can set up times and dates so we don’t have to keep meeting here.” Ian offered. Mickey looked at him and Ian could see the battle inside, and hoped that his side would win out. Another exhale and the phone was pulled out of his hand and replaced seconds later with a new number and name. 

“Contact photo?” Ian asked holding up his phone to take a photo.

“Fuck no.” Mickey answers, turning and walking away before Ian had a second to snap a photo. He sighs and zooms in to take one of Mickey’s retreating ass anyways. No reason to waste an opportunity. Ian smirks at the image before saving it and typing out a quick message to his new contact.

Ian -- Hey Fancy Fingers

He hitched his bag up on his shoulder from the ground and sighed, turning to walk back up the subway stairs. He was going to take the long way home, enjoying the crisp spring air and the high he was currently riding from the dance.

Mick -- Fuck you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short, really busy with college and everything plus super uninspired. I had some time today and watched a ballet movie which is why this short chapter is coming out. Hope you enjoy it and hopefully in a couple of weeks I will find a weekend I can dedicate to research and writing for all my fics. Much love!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I suck at posting. College keeps me busy :(

It was 9:00pm on the dot and Mickey was fidgeting. As he picked at his tag on his resting violin case he flicked his phone on and checked the message for about the millionth time. 

Ian — Meet in studio B at 9pm? Bring violin and sexy self ;)

Mickey initially thought the wink and everything was a bit much but he liked it, though now as his watch struck the hour he thought it mean and a malicious trick. He snatched up his violin case, a scathing look growing on his face and started to storm off down the hallway of the school till a shout rang out in the quiet of his footsteps. 

“Mickey!” Ian shouted at the man striding away from him. He wasn’t even late what did this guy expect? He saddled up anyway and jogged lightly to where Mickey was standing.

“You ready?” Ian asks with a smile. Mickey just gruffs, still pissed off about Ian being “late” and making him feel like a fool. Ian shakes it off and pushed open the door they just barely passed.

“After you” Ian dips down and waves Mickey in, looking up once Mickey enter the room and finally getting a small smile from Mick.

“You can set up over there by the piano, just put your case any ol’ place. Then like if you want to face me?” Ian talks while slinging his dance bag off his shoulder and into a corner near the door, he drops to the ground to change his shoes and then he is back up and walking to the center of the floor. He leans down to touch his toes and do other various stretches, limbering up while Mickey tunes his violin. 

“So what are we doing exactly?” Mickey asks when he is finally satisfied with his instrument as he strides to the space Ian gestured to earlier. 

“I thought this time we would just like mess around ya know? Like, you play whatever you want and then I’ll just dance to it, feeling each other out. See if this could work for other things.” Mickey wasn’t sure what Ian meant about ‘other things’ but he agreed. He nodded and lifted his violin to his chin, nestling it between jaw and neck feeling comfortable once again. Bringing his bow to the strings he pulls out a chord, playing two strings at once to make a full sound. Ian smiles and leans back almost as if the music is a lover and he is falling into their embrace. 

Mickey stays in a major key for a while, playing a slow but happy melody and Ian dances around, a smile on his face, and Mickey can almost see a scene beginning to play out. He continues the content sound though now adding a couple of minor notes in, not enough to throw off the whole sound but enough for Ian to notice the tone of the song changing. He dips his head and as Mickey begins to play a call and response argument Ian mimics it in movement. Mickey plays a striking note and Ian jumps, as if full body attacking the person he had been talking with and then he tumbles to the ground as Mickey’s note strangles out. A somber melody then comes from Mickey’s violin, something more sad and dismal, almost as if the song itself is sad to be heard. Ian picks his body up off the floor and stands, looking a shell of a man and dances. It’s slow and almost painful to watch as he stretches one leg and arm out, trying to grasp something just out of his reach. Ian’s eyes are closed as he swings around and pulls his limbs back into him, almost in fetal position while standing. Mickey is just watching this scene play out, his music invoke a scene and he stops abruptly. 

“Mick?” Ian asks, blinking his eyes open and slowly unfolding from his position. 

“Mick?” He asks again when his initial call wasn’t answered.

“What? Sorry, I just…” Mickey drops his violin holding hand next to his side and scratches the back of his neck with his bow hand. 

“Witnessed the power of your music?” Ian asks a knowing look on his face. He steps closer to Mickey and Mickey notices a small wet glimmer in Ian’s eyes.

“Nah man, just couldn't think of the next thing to play is all.” Mickey says straightening up and glancing down to his instrument in his hand. 

“Oh yeah cool. Wanna just try again?” Ian asks, knowing that wasn’t it at all but deciding it’s better to just go along with it. 

“No,” Mickey says moving to start to pick his stuff back up, “I think we did enough. I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Sorry, man.” Mickey grabs his stuff and stalks out of the room.

“But…” Ian trails off as Mickey just leaves, leaving the door open behind him.

“But it was perfect.” Ian says defeatedly.

Mickey walks down the hallway to the exit, cursing himself for leaving. Of course he knew that what he and Ian had with their combining talents was something to marvel at and treasure but he just wasn’t ready. He didn’t need anyone else, the music that he made was good enough without a dancer, he didn’t need someone to visualize his stories. He was fine on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm bad at posting, but since I'm officially off on summer vacation I will try to make a chapter at least once every two weeks (hopefully) more, and try to make them longer.

Mickey began the everyday chore of unpacking his instrument in the busy subway station. As he pulled the bow from the top of the case he began to wonder when playing music changed from his passion to a chore. As he rosined up his bow his eyes fell on to the answer.   
Ian.

It had been two weeks since Ian and Mickey had spoken. Mickey was embarrassed by the way he stormed out during the rehearsal with Ian. He didn’t want Ian to know how fragile he actually was, how scared he was of creating an actual relationship or creating something meaningful. Mickey wanted so desperately to call out to the red head, who was standing looking out at the tracks waiting for the next subway to come through to take him away somewhere far better than Mickey could imagine. Mickey closed his eyes and pulled the bow across the strings silently forcing himself to make something beautiful within the vibrations even though his body was screaming to throw down the instrument and run to Ian apologizing. 

Ian stood staring at the tracks forcing himself to ignore the beautiful raven haired boy pulling at his heartstrings with his music. The song that was coming from the violin was reminiscent to the song that Mickey had played when they were rehearsing. That night Ian had been disappointed in Mickey and sad all together about how the night ended but after a couple of days he worked himself into an anger. He was mad that Mickey couldn't accept the things they could have created. He was mad that Mickey was so horrible sometimes, and could act like he nothing mattered at all. He was mad that he had to always be the one initiating everything. He was mad at the whole situation, therefore he had vowed to himself that he would not crumble first. He had lasted two weeks, till today when he crumbled just a single brick from his newly founded wall and decided to take the subway that he knew Mickey frequented. He wasn’t taking the subway anywhere particularly important, just taking it so that Mickey would see him living a life that didn’t require him nor include him in any form. 

Mickey opened his eyes a minute after playing, as the subway pulled into the station. His eyes scanned the flowing crowd for the red head he had just ignored but he couldn’t find him. Once the doors slid to a close he gazed through the windows looking for Ian and finally spotted him, standing holding onto a chrome pole, ear buds in and looking straight ahead. Mickey didn’t think Ian had noticed him at all till the very last second as the subway started to pull forward, Ian looked over to Mickey and they locked eyes as the subway pulled out of the station. 

“I fucked up." Mickey spoke to himself as he looked back to the instrument he had let drop from his shoulder and was now dangling in his loose fist. 

“If that last look was anything to go on I would have to agree with you.” A voice said from behind Mickey. Mickey whipped around to the voice with an incredulous look on his face. 

“Wha the fuck are you talking about?” Mickey spat out, guard up and holding tenfold.

“Don’t need to get your panties in a twist, closet case. Damn. I was just stating that I have seen a lot of men looking at me just like that one looked at you and that is definitely a dog house look.” The man said. Mickey sized him up as he spoke, regarding the man wearily. He was dressed in a bright blue crop top with bright pink latex looking pants and white gogo boots. To top it all off he was wearing a knee length spotted coat that looked suspiciously like Cruella de’Ville’s from 101 Dalmatians, though Mickey would never admit that he knew what that looked like.

“What?" Mickey sputtered out, distracted and a little over whelmed by what the guy was wearing.

“Oh honey, get over it. This is New York for godsake, I can’t be the first drag queen you’ve seen.” The drag queen stated, thrusting a hip out and striking the sassiest post Mickey had ever seen.

“You’re the first one who has ever talked to me.” Mickey answers, regaining his earlier confidence.

“Well with the way your eyes nearly bugged out of ya damn head I understand why!” The drag queen laughed, “My name is Juney.” 

“Like the children’s chapter book?” Mickey asked, confused as to why someone like this would name themselves after a children’s book character.

“No, because June is my favorite month, idiot. Who cares about a fucking childen's book?” Juney retorted with a laugh and a smile that revealed her perfect teeth.

“I have a younger sister,” Mickey muttered out, needing to give a reason to his knowledge, as a small flame of red burned across his cheeks and nose. 

“Whatever, closet boy.” Juney laughed again.

“What are you doing even fucking talking to me?" Mickey asked, trying to rebuild his wall but failing as he was finding it really easy and fun to talk to Juney.

“Well, I first was down here to take the subway, then stopped to listen to your music then got rudely interrupted when you stopped to stare at that gorgeous ginger boy. Side note, if he is your guy you have got to swoop him back up and get the fuck out of that dog house because I know about a billion and one people who will be more than happy to take that hunk of a man off of your hands.” Juney licked her lips as she looked at Mickey. 

“He isn’t mine,” Mickey said out loud though it was more of a reminder, “we just played music together once.”

“Oh baby, you don’t need to make up silly names for fucking. I know all about playing that sweet sweet music of the bed.” Juney joked.

“That’s not…I meant…ugh…” Mickey blushed even harder and bit his lip to clear his head of sexual thoughts including Ian.

“It was music. He is a dancer and I play violin. We were just working together to see if it was the right fit.” Juney’s eyes slid over Mickey before deciding to accept his answer.

“Well why is he that pissed at you?” Juney asked.

“Why the fuck am I even talking to you? I am supposed to be working.” Mickey glances back to his instrument giving it a bit of a pathetic shrug, purely using it to get out of the uncomfortable question this stranger was asking.

“Here,” Juney threw a $100 bill from her back pocket into his open case, “that should cover what you would make in a night. Entertain me with your life stories, my friends are all so boring with their typical cat fights. I need something fresh and juicy to keep me young.” Juney’s eyes sparkled and Mickey looked down at the bill in his case. It certainly was what he would make in night, probably about $30 over but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Fine, but you’re buying me a drink before I say anything truly good.” Mickey said, raising an eyebrow at Juney.

“I just gave you a hundred dollars!” Mickey kept his eyebrow raised as he bent down to put away his violin, “Fine.” Juney agreed. 

“So, what is the boys name?” Juney asked as Mickey stood back up, his violin settled in his case and the handle in his hand.

“Ian.” Mickey responded.

“Ohh, I have known a couple Ian’s, this will be a good story.” Juney nodded to herself, almost reassuring herself that this was a good reason for spending the money.

“My name’s Mickey, by the way.” Mickey said, sticking out a hand for Juney to shake. Instead of shaking it she took it and curtseyed, standing back up to smile brilliantly at Mickey.

“Enchanted to meet you, Mick.” She begun their walk out of the subway.


End file.
